Naruto Drabbles to Music
by BlackArtist
Summary: What it says on the tin. Naruto and Itachi centric.
1. Chapter 1

**Naruto Drabbles to Music**

**A/N: Just drabbles, mostly focused on Itachi and Naruto. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, and probably never will. Shame that.**

Itachi wanted to run. He wanted to run as fast and far as he could; wanted to feel his lungs burn and scream for a reprieve that they wouldn't receive. Then he wanted to die, to suffer in agony because he of all people didn't deserve a quick painless death.

_Kinslayer._

He wants to hurl. To have physical evidence of how sick he feels on the inside but iron control won't allow it. Instead he walks slowly through the forest surrounding his old home. Dried and fallen leaves crunch under his feet and he shows a millisecond of hesitation – a flash of remorse. Fallen, just as his family had lain in pools of their own fluids, and by his hand.

_Murderer. _

More than anything, he wants to scream. To cry his sorrow and horror and shame at the night sky knowing that it will not judge him, but he must not. If he crumbles now than it is all for nothing – all the killing, all the lies, all the waste – and he will have accomplished nothing. Just as he has nothing, nothing but a brother who will hate him for all of eternity.

_Traitor._

It is the last that drives him still forward. He is not a traitor and he never will be. Not to his beliefs and not to his home – to his innocent family still left. He is loyal. Always, he thinks as frighteningly hard eyes brighten to a deadly crimson, he will never falter. He will – he has already – dirtied his hands and will continue to do so as long as necessary. As long as he draws breath he will fight.

_**Brother.**_

No matter what the cost.


	2. Chapter 2

He knows what they call him behind his back.

_Monster._

He doesn't fully understand it, but in a way he doesn't care because he will never be accepted. He will laugh in the face of hatred and contempt, he will dance in the solitude of loneness, he will sing to death itself.

_Demon._

Because what does it matter? He is alone – always alone, but it doesn't bother him the way it used to. Que sera, sera. What is, is. Though no matter what he may tell himself as he lays in the dark, listening to the creak of the floor and whispers of the wind, he still sometimes hopes.

_Animal._

Hopes one day for companionship and the little spark that is hidden deep down, by buffers to deflect the scorn, that makes Naruto wholly himself wants to change what is. Wants to take a chance and see what he can really do – how far he can go before he is dragged down to earth.

_Worthless._

Because this one child from a young age, had resolved to change the world. If he had to move mountains to do so, then so be it.

_**Hero.**_

And he would let nothing stand in his way.


	3. Chapter 3

Sometimes, not very often because he does live in the heart of the Land of Fire, it will rain in Konoha. The sky will darken, the normally scarce clouds dark and heavy with new weight, and shorts bursts of light will dart across the sky to unknown destinations.

Times like this, when the arms of Mother Nature are open to whomever so chooses to accept her, Naruto will dance. In the training field, surrounded by trees and air and sky with no prying eyes, he will raise his hands to the heavens and smile. Then, in light drizzle or fat painful splatters of a thunderstorm, he will dance with the rain.

If, indeed, it can even be called such, for surely such flowing movement can be no dance. With a grace usually absent, those particular tanned limbs will rise and fall and twist with no restriction, only a steady sort of serenity.

It is the one time Naruto can truly feel like himself, held in the encompassing embrace of water and wind he shows his appreciation of the moment with all of his endless energy – throwing his body around as if it were nothing more than a puppet for the gods amusement.

Eyes closed and expression peaceful, he will spin slowly to a stop as the last droplets fall – inevitably on his upraised face and pause in the sudden stillness. It is never him who breaks the moment with a careless breath; sometimes it is an insect chirping, others a barely distinguishable ripple of a newly filled puddle, but then as outside movement returns to the world and the other worshipers of the storm rise in symphony he will sigh just once, quite softly.

And then he will walk home, face still tilted toward the fast fading grey infinity and wish that it could last just a little bit longer.


	4. Chapter 4

It was a gradual process, Itachi will later realize. First, before he was fully appreciative of the consequences of his actions, he distances himself from his little brother unintentionally. He is only trying to understand – to gather the shards of a shattered picture and put them back together – so that he could react best to whatever the outcome would be regardless of his influence.

It takes him a long time, far more than it should, and in the meantime Sasuke has become more apprehensive of his presence. He is not _Onii-chan_ any longer but _Aniki_ and he feels the distance in the formality. It hurts but he has no one to blame but himself.

Second, when it becomes apparent to the true power in Konoha – the council – just how much he knows, he is chained before he has the chance to escape. Bound by his own foolish ideals, the sheer chance that he can make things better for all even after all the bloodshed he has caused, he tries to sway his family.

With reasonable words and sensible arguments he tries to change the ship's course of destruction. He fails, of course, and his father no longer trusts him. Sasuke is wary of them both but does not know why. Itachi's heart aches but doesn't want a still innocent child to suffer the betrayal of his clansmen and, in his rationality, leaves the boy ignorant. Perhaps the only thing he does right, it will save his brother's life later, but he does not know this now.

Third, his friend Shisui's death. He can see now where this path will lead and the futility of struggle. He still tries; he went to the Hokage in the dead of night and begged. Him, the perfect ninja, the killing machine, begged for the help of an old man to save his family. It is no good.

The deal, the disgusting bargain he makes with wrinkled seats of strength, he could slaughter them all but it would not help. The entire village would descend upon the Uchiha clan, screaming for blood. He agrees with one condition, his brother will go free. He argues for it for hours, his innocent baby brother's life, for doing the council's dirty work.

That very night he kills everyone in the compound. The lucky ones didn't see him coming, the first few. Then it turns into something out of a nightmare, one where he's the monster. He cuts down mothers holding their children, slits the throat of men trying to protect their wives, silences the screaming of babies; chase all those who try to run. None succeed.

All the while, the stone cold expression on his face doesn't change, not when they beg, not when they cry, not till the very end. He left his parents for last, sentimentality or revenge for the horror he put himself through he isn't certain, and then is when he cries. The very last shred of his old self ripped apart. He is ready.

Sasuke is easier to deal with than he thought. Easy to riel up, even with the obvious hatred burning in his eyes, but it isn't enough. Not nearly enough. If Itachi can still hold him with so little effort then the demons of the Akatsuki will crush him. He has to push – force the strength into the smaller body so that one of them will survive the coming clash.

He is disgusted with himself for this one thing, using his brother so, though he knows no other way. He has gone too far now to be kind; he must be cruel and hope it is enough. Hope that the amount of hate his brother holds toward him, that the desire to avenge will push him enough to gather the power to live. For Itachi will not be able to do it in his stead for much longer.

"_Onii-chan!"_

He will never be that again. But still, on the inside, he can pray to a god he doesn't believe in that his most important thing in life – the only thing left to him – will make it through without him.

He coughs hard into his hand and stares at his palm warily. Blood, the near black vital fluid he holds so callously, will always bind him thicker than water. More than Konoha, more than life itself, blood will ensure he does his duty.

"_I will always protect you, Sasuke."_

"_Really?"_

"_Yes…I promise."_


	5. Chapter 5

Naruto loved many people. He loved too much. That was his problem.

He could feel a love towards a father figure for his teacher, who felt a paternal sort of fondness for the boy. He could feel a love for his teammates, the both of them, who barely tolerated him. He loved his parents, whose names he didn't know. He loved the birds who sang in the morning, the squirrels that leaped into his tree, and the small brown mice that sometimes shared his apartment with him.

He loved the air he breathed, the sun that shone upon his face, and the music that sometimes floated through an open window. He even loved, to some extent, his fellow villages.

And yet, though such a child from a young age could feel so much for so many people, he was rejected. Time and time again he was pushed away, shut out of the lives of all he cared for, and no one could find the second or effort it took to recall the bright blond.

So it came to be, through the weathered paths of resentment, Naruto shut the parts of him that cared, that felt, away deep inside. And though he smiled and laughed, his heart was no longer in it, and not a single person noticed.

Naruto loved many people. Then he did not. And when those people called for his help because now they wanted him?

He let them burn, and smiled while it happened.


	6. Chapter 6

Sometimes Itachi closes his eyes and shuts down the Sharingan, stops that constant biting drain of energy. He'll sit and breathe, in and out, in and out.

Then he'll see something else. Splashes of color, bold streaks of red, bursts of purple, flickering shades of blue, flowing green, and bright yellow. Snatches of voices reach his ears, things that could not be real. A low buzz, clicks, fading notes of a song long forgotten, nattering in a language foreign to him.

_Follow sweet children._

He'll feel the sway of his body, the caress of hanging hair against his face, the rush of blood, the pounding of his heart and it will all be so distant, lost among the numbness and breathless rush of wind.

_I'll show thee the way._

He'll hear a call, a soul binding, heart wrenching longing for him and he wants to go – to follow that call, but he knows that if he moves the moment will be lost. It is never quiet, he is never alone. A haunting melody floats teasingly just out of reach, a plucking harp, a ringing bell, a flowing ensemble of strings.

_Through all the pain and the sorrows._

It is beautiful and it has yet to fail to calm him. He wishes that he could stay there, suspended in that calm peaceful state, for an eternity, but it is not to be.

_Come now my children._

He will cough, hack up his lifeblood, or something in the wood will scratch, or someone will knock at his door. Always interrupted, but these quiet moments that encase a world of motion keep him grounded in the mad rush of life.

_The time has come to play._

Itachi will stand and leave behind a little piece of himself with that world, but it is alright. For, one day soon, he will be able to stay for quite some time among those dancing shapes and whispering voices and gentle music – in his own heaven.

_Here in my garden of shadows._


End file.
